


dark paradise

by nafnaf



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Begging, Crying, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Praise Kink, honestly lost count of how many times they said each other's names, i probably projected a bit too much onto goro fdkfnsnfkf, im ashamed, morgana is there for like one second, this was supposed to be less wordy but things happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 03:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11199333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nafnaf/pseuds/nafnaf
Summary: He dreams that Goro is there, with him.





	dark paradise

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fanfiction/smut fic so you understand that the stakes are high right
> 
> the title is based on a lana del rey song which is.... related to this fic unsurprisingly....
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated!! <3

He dreams that Goro is there, with him.

But it’s not the Goro that plagues his nightmares, the wicked smile and empty eyes that fill Akira’s vision just before his own blood does. It’s the Goro of his memories—the _true_ one, the detective that was not just a murderer, not just a madman—with life behind his eyelids and vulnerability in his shoulders. And he looks so earnest, so solemn.

It feels just like a Velvet Room dream. One foot in reality, the other in a dreamworld.  

Goro stands at the entrance to his room, pensive. He’s frighteningly real, a step away from the ghosts that haunt Akira at night. Shifting a little, Akira sits up and regards the dream Goro, searching for any sign that he might disappear like he always does.

But there’s none.

“Akira,” says Goro, at last. His voice is loud in the quiet of the attic, an alarm that sends shivers down Akira’s spine. “I’m… sorry to intrude.”   

“No,” Akira interrupts, “don’t be.” He realizes for a split-second that he’s talking to nothingness, but it feels too right to be wrong, his conscience clear despite the haziness that frays his vision. With a pang, the revelation comes; he _wants_ to talk to this dream Goro, to spill out all of his emotions even if it means nothing in the end.

“… I miss you,” Akira whispers softly. Goro steps closer. “Everyday, I think about what might have happened if you hadn’t sacrificed yourself…”

“I know.” Goro is by his bed, now, hands clenched at his sides. “I know, Akira, I know.”

“Why are you here?”  Akira looks up at him, finds Goro staring back with shocking clarity. It almost hurts his eyes.

Lifting a hand, Goro places it on Akira’s bed, just beside his left hip. “I have a score to settle.”

He kisses Akira without waiting. The touch sears him, shatters his heart into pieces, but he can’t escape Goro’s warmth and leans selfishly into it. He wonders at the back of his mind if this will communicate his feelings to the real Goro—the one surely to be on the other side of life by now. But as guilty and uncertain as Akira is, this may be his only chance to tell Goro how he really feels, even if only in a dream.

“… Goro…” Akira cups his face, pulls him closer. Surrenders. “ _Goro.”_

Goro complies, settling his knee on the bed and rumpling the sheets. Akira remembers, distantly, that Morgana is sleeping not too far away— _dream_ Morgana, if any of this is as he thinks it is—and pulls away from the kiss, pausing a moment to retrieve the sleeping Morgana and deposit him on the floor (something he barely has time to regret).

“Best to keep quiet, huh?” Goro laughs feebly at this. Akira misses that laugh.

“Come here,” he says, and opens his arms in invitation. Goro gravitates towards him, kicking off his shoes as he does so.

Their next kiss is harder, messier, tinged with a desperation inexplicable by words. Akira feels himself slipping in, further into this dreamworld, greed and neediness ruling over logic—a sickening feeling that buries its knife deeper into his chest. But the pleasure is too good and whites out the shame by a large margin, along with the doubt that slowly ebbs away at him.

He fights this feeling by biting into Goro’s lip. Goro grunts, bites back harder, elicits pain that awakens Akira on a whole other level. With a huff, Goro pulls away and fits himself fully between Akira’s legs, prompting Akira onto his back.

“Akira…” Goro kisses him once more on the lips. It’s gentle, making Akira shiver fully. “I can’t help but wanting to be a little selfish.”

“Do it,” Akira says. “Be selfish. I want you, Goro, more than anything.”

“More than anything, huh.” Goro shakes his head, a breathy little laugh escaping him. “How can you want someone like me? I’m not anything that you might’ve thought I was, Akira. I tried to kill you so many times.”

The confession makes Akira freeze. _Too real,_ he thinks. _Too much like the real Goro._ In all honesty, it’s a little unnerving—something this truthful shouldn’t be possible for a dreamscape summoned by nothing but desire. Yet Akira can’t feel as upset as he wants to be.

He runs his hands up Goro’s chest, stopping just where his heart beats out of control. “I don’t pretend you’re something you’re not,” Akira admits. “I will always like you no matter who you are, or what you think you are. I’ve seen all sides of you—”

“—They’re not very pretty—”

“—And Loki was just one facet of your personality. He wasn’t all of you, Goro. Robin Hood was the you that you pushed away.”

He says this thinking of nothing but Goro’s smile; a bit of a bias influences his words. But they have the desired effect, causing Goro to blush and cast his gaze away. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve you, Akira,” he murmurs, unconvinced. Akira trails his hands up to his cheek.

“I beg to differ.” He leans up, presses a kiss to his nose. “You could have all of me, and I wouldn’t say a word. So please, do what you want with me, Goro.”

“What I want… ?” Goro dips his head down in contemplation. “… What if I want to kill you?”

Akira feels his heart stop for a moment. Wonders,  _Is this a nightmare after all?_

But the shot doesn’t come, and Goro isn’t moving, so Akira sighs through his nose and cards his hand through Goro’s hair. “If you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it already. To catch me off-guard.” Adoringly, he brushes Goro’s bangs out of his eyes. “But you don’t want to kill me, so can we just get this over with?”

The light returns to Goro’s eyes, and he laughs, unabashedly. “Always the same Joker.”

Akira smiles. “And always the same Crow.”

He kisses Goro before he can say anything, pressing their bodies flush together—no distance, no secrets. He feels hotter than ever, Goro’s hands caressing his back and guiding him downward, so much so that his thoughts become jumbled in his head. Akira tightens his grip on Goro’s hair and gasps when he feels Goro’s lips latching onto his neck.

“Goro—ah…” He tilts his head back, shutting his eyes tight. All he can feel is Goro, Goro enveloping him like a tidal wave, leaving him in danger of drowning. And he _does_ feel like he’s drowning; it’s hard not to when he’s robbed of breath like this, when Goro leans up and kisses him so deeply and hungrily. Akira opens his mouth; Goro’s tongue slides in with ease, running over Akira’s own and licking feverishly into his mouth. He can’t breathe, almost doesn’t _want_ to breathe because he feels so good, heat pooling into his gut like slow-drizzling honey.

A hand sneaks under his shirt. Rides it up his chest. Akira’s breath hitches, and he breaks away from Goro to lift it over his head. Revealing himself like this, he feels himself run hot with desire, contrasting the cold of the attic room.

Goro turns his attention to the newly-bared skin, kissing everywhere he can reach. Akira gathers Goro’s hair into his head and curls his fingers there, gasping, whispering Goro’s name. “I miss you…” He lets it slip; he means every single word, wants it to be known. “I miss you so much, Goro, I miss talking to you…”

“Akira…”

“I miss seeing you at the train station, at Leblanc, at the hideout where we would gather before missions… I miss all of it, and I always see you there when you’re not, looking at me, smiling at me like you always would… I miss it, miss you—”

“ _Akira._ ” A thumb strokes his cheek, silencing him. “I’m here. I’m with you.”

_If only that were true._ Akira shakes his head and laughs silently. He pulls Goro into one last kiss before pushing forward, bringing himself level with his face. Hands slide over skin, Akira’s lips nipping at Goro’s collarbone. Before he knows it, Goro’s shirt is off, and the scars of before are ever present. Slowly, reverently, he drags his palms over them.

“This is…” The words catch in his throat. They feel thick at the tip of his tongue.

Goro places a hand over Akira’s, directing it back to his beating heart. “From Shido’s Palace.”

Akira stiffens, but then swallows his uncertainty. _This dream is so damn cruel._

Without speaking, Akira catches Goro’s hand, brings it to his lips. “I wish I could’ve healed you,” he says, tenderly honest. “I wish you’d have just accepted our help. I wanted to free you, Goro. I wanted that, most of all.”

“Why?” Goro asks, as Akira leans forward and kisses his jaw.

“It’s always ‘why’ with you.” Akira draws back, only to tangle his fingers in Goro’s hair. He tugs: “Can’t you just say ‘okay’ and leave it at that? Not everything can be explained, Goro, and sometimes we just need to learn to deal with it.”

It’s clear that Goro wants to protest further, but Akira yanks him forward, the former tumbling into Akira’s chest. Goro squawks— _cute,_ Akira thinks hazily, as Goro opens his mouth to argue with him. Akira shushes him. “You’re awfully talkative for a dream Goro,” he mutters under his breath, and Goro tilts his head in confusion.

“What’s that?”

Akira bites back a smile. “Nothing. Just that you haunt me of your own accord and you’re already questioning yourself.”

“Ha…” Goro pushes himself off of Akira’s chest, landing a kiss on his forehead. “Confident, aren’t you. All right then. If you’re so sure, why don’t we discard the questions for now?”

“Then wh—” The inquiry is smothered by a moan, drawn out further by the sudden pressure on his groin. He looks up, eyes wild and disoriented, at the mischievous Goro’s smirk—he seems different now, not the broken, scrupulous mess he’d revealed to Akira earlier.

There’s something challenging posed in those bright red eyes. A challenge Akira that is willing to take on. With newfound energy, he smiles back at Goro, reaching for the boy’s belt and unbuckling it eagerly. Goro doesn’t protest; he watches part-fascinated, part-curious, lips parted in heady excitement. The belt is off within seconds; Akira licks his lips, pulling down the hem of Goro’s pants roughly.

“Akira—aah…” Goro tilts his chin up and groans at the first hint of contact. “P-Please—”

There’s no delay. Akira rubs him through his briefs, desire pulling him closer, almost tugging Goro onto his lap. Goro stifles a moan, his fingers flying immediately to his mouth. Understandable, with dream Morgana only a mere few feet away. Steeling himself, Akira proceeds further, slipping his hand underneath the waistband of Goro’s briefs and digging his palm there.

“Mmf—!” Goro arches his back, trembles with pleasure. Akira feels himself harden at the sight, and he wraps his fingers around Goro, pulling his cock out completely.

“Akira,” Goro says, mindlessly. The name leaves his lips, so easy and natural that it hurts to hear it. Akira ignores this and strokes him, achingly slow—his tip already glistens wet with precome. To think that _he_ gets to see Goro like this. That he’s been blessed with the chance, however illusory, to witness Goro bare himself to him. Akira chews his lip and feels his own briefs grow embarrassingly damp at the thought.

“God…” It comes out in a murmur, voice trembling. “You look so beautiful right now, Goro.”

And it’s true; Goro is flushed all over, the red adding to his flawless complexion, strands of his hair sticking to and away from his face. It’s disheveled and unseemly for a detective, but it makes it all the more _real_ to Akira, makes him feel less ashamed for indulging in a petty dream.

Goro blushes. He rocks into Akira’s hand ever-so-slightly, mumbling, “Y-You’re lying…”

“I’m not.” Akira twists Goro’s cock in his grip, and Goro gasps sharply. “You’re perfect, Goro. So, so perfect.”

“Akira—mnn!” His hands flutter to Akira’s hair, _pulling._ Akira’s breath is cut short, and he blanks out, experiencing nothing but the feel of Goro’s fingers clinging onto his hair.

Akira barely contains the whimper that dances on his lips. “Do that again,” he pleads, and Goro yanks him up, trapping him into a wet kiss. There’s no finesse to it; Akira’s hand falters on Goro’s dick, blissed-out by the sparks of pain in his scalp and the tongue in his mouth. Before he knows it, Goro has reached into his pants and palms at his erection.

“ _Aah_ —” He purses his lips. _Shit_ _, that was so loud. Did I wake Morgana?_  But no reaction follows, and Goro’s hand continues its task unfazed.

Embarrassed, Akira covers his mouth with his palm, trying not to look when Goro pulls him out and pumps his cock. The flame of desire is rekindled—in his head and under his belly—and he bucks his hips frantically, groaning beneath his hand. Goro draws it away, grins like a scheming animal, and shoves two digits into Akira’s mouth. Akira whines around his fingers.

“Don’t stop now,” Goro murmurs, and Akira refastens his hold on him. Steadily, in time with Goro, he strokes his cock, the sound wet and arousing in the deadly quiet of the attic. It feels forbidden, somehow, touching Goro like this—no shame, no second-guessing. It’s a lot more than he can handle, but he’s content this way. Riding out his pleasure beneath Goro’s hand. Gasping his name, feeling the warmth gather in his stomach.

It gives him something new, something he could never have.

The next moment Goro releases his length, eliciting a whimper from Akira’s lips. “You’re so good,” Goro whispers, pushing him down. Akira’s heart jumps at the statement. “So good, Akira, too good for me.” He kisses him, intense and open-mouthed, his moans nothing less than filthy as Akira regains the conscience enough to continue stroking Goro.

All of a sudden, Goro chokes out something—”Akira, enough”—and snatches his wrist, effectively stopping him. He pins it over Akira’s head.

“Goro…” Akira swallows, his voice strangely hoarse. “I… I…”

“Don’t speak,” Goro says. He’s panting heavily, breath hot as it fans over Akira’s cheek. “I want to savor this moment. You do, too, don’t you?”

“I—yes,” Akira sputters, still dazed. Goro smiles.

“Then no more discussion.” He lowers his head, catches Akira’s mouth in a sweet kiss. Just as Goro wills it, Akira doesn’t say a word, doesn’t spill what he’s been dying to get off his chest and leans into the kiss. He feels tight all over. He wonders why.

Wordlessly, Goro breaks away. He lifts his hand between them and drags his tongue up his palm, up his fingers. Akira watches him, mesmerized, slack-jawed and almost painfully turned-on. Goro pulls away from his hand; without waiting, he shoves his fingers back into Akira’s mouth.

Startled into compliance, Akira moans, sucking diligently. He can’t quite make out Goro’s expression from above him, but he can see the _want_ in his eyes, clear as day. So much clearer than the Goro of his nightmares—those clouded eyes, the barely-suppressed rage in his thinned lips. Akira shivers, remembering the feeling.

He doesn’t have time to parse it, however, as Goro moves his hand away and trails it lower.

“Akira,” Goro husks, and grabs both of their erections. Akira’s eyes snap open. “I wish things could have been different.”

“You said no more discussion—” Akira is cut off by his own moan, high and wanton, when Goro drags his wet fingers up and down their cocks.

He feels Goro squeeze his shaft, and then say, “I meant you, not me.”

“N-Not fair— _hahh—!”_ Abruptly, he jerks his hips upward, craving the feel of Goro’s cock rubbing against his. “Goro, Goro—”

“Shh.” Goro covers his mouth with his, muffling the words. He threads sentences against Akira’s lips: “You were always so bright, so beautiful… I was jealous of you, Akira. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what I wanted back then, and I was a fool—a-ah—” Suddenly, the pace of his hand quickens, and he grinds down on Akira’s cock, _hard._ “Nngh… ! Y-You make me want to become a better person, Akira…”

“G-Goro…” Akira’s pitch turns shamefully high; he’s almost mewling, and he can’t quite think when his body has melted completely underneath Goro’s hand, brain included. He chases that pleasure, lifting his hips, rubbing their dicks together. Goro’s hand stutters.

“ _Goro,_ ” Akira breathes, sobs. _It's too much, too much—_ “Goro, I love you. You can still change. Y-You can—”

“Akira…” Instead of responding, Goro pumps them harder, and Akira cries out.

“Aah—!” The world blurs, his face hot and tongue heavy in his mouth. Goro traces his jaw, finds his way back to Akira’s hair. “Goro, please… don’t leave… please don’t leave me…”

“I won’t.” Goro holds him tightly. “I won’t, so just finish for me, Akira, _please._ ”

_You will leave though,_ Akira thinks, through his pleasure-addled daze. _The dream will end and you will disappear before it does. It's not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not—_

“ _Fuck,_ ” Goro huffs suddenly, tearing Akira away from his thoughts. “I—I’m close.”

Akira moans. Overheated, he buries his face into Goro’s neck, indulging in his scent. He smells like the rain, mixed with sweat and musk. It’s so familiar, so nice. Akira’s eyes gather with tears.

Drawing his head away slightly, Goro leans down and smashes their lips together. His strokes are jerkier, now, less controlled, and Goro is rubbing patterns into Akira’s scalp, whispering his name into his mouth like a mantra. The pressure builds up—Akira whimpers quietly, tears at the corner of his eyes as whatever vestiges of control snap within him—and he finishes into Goro’s hand with an inaudible moan, rocking into it slowly, desperately.

“Ah… Hahh…”  Akira catches his breath, Goro’s continuous strokes doing little to soothe his overstimulated nerves. Black consumes his vision, and then white. The world grows fuzzy, then—he feels his senses return to him, the frozen air and warm skin and sweat. He says Goro's name; Goro comes shortly after, gasping quietly into the dark.

Eventually, after a momentary pause, Goro collapses against Akira. He holds him close, chest heaving with the effort.

“… Don’t… go,” Akira repeats, groggy, but Goro says nothing.

And then, “Do you really think I’m that valuable?” The words are accompanied by a bitterness that translates into dejection, into denial. Akira shifts, shoving his nose into Goro’s hair.

“I believe in second chances.” Affectionately, he nuzzles Goro’s scalp, still gleaming with sweat. “I just wish… that God gave you one.”  

He doesn’t hear what Goro says next. Because next he’s drifting, drifting into a restless slumber, the last thing he feels being Goro's lips against his temple…

…

And the morning comes.

Light shines through the windows. Akira wakes up, a body besides his and sandy locks spread across his pillow. Akira smiles. Looks like he never actually left this time.

**Author's Note:**

> and it was REAL THIS WHOLE TIME!!! DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!


End file.
